The Unbearable Loss
by mytruecolors
Summary: Tony Almeida's final hours with the love of his life, and everything he felt after his resurrection.
1. The Loss

Author's Note; I have a few other Michelle & Tony stories, all much longer and happier. I have other couples as well, along with some action scenes, but I don't want to post them unless people like my ideas. So if the reviews come, I'll post soon! :)

A blinding light flashes into my eyes, and I squint, unable to take it. At first I am dazed, wondering where I am and how I got here, but then I realize: I'm supposed to be dead. The thoughts come rushing back to me, of Christopher Henderson stabbing me with the lethal injection, supposedly killing me almost instantly. How long had I been gone, and how did this happen? I dare to open my eyes and see a single face hovering over me; a man's face that I don't quite recognize. I can vaguely see him open his mouth, and the words seem loud in such a silent room. "Tony Almeida? My name is David Emerson." He says, and I don't recognize the name, from CTU or otherwise – CTU…I remember. My wife, Michelle, died today.

I take in a loud, gasping breath as I realize and go back to everything that happened. Seeing David Palmer's death on the news, having her insistent on going to help Bill and Jack, and worst of all…the explosion of her car, leading to her murder and my serious injuries. Michelle hadn't even stood a chance, as the cowards did something so weak as to attack her with a bomb. She had been so strong and independent; my girl was amazingly able to take care of herself. They hadn't let her do that, however, and it all grew worse. Then Bill had lied, stating that she was alive and well, but I'd known better. For a moment I was stunned, unable to even feel anything. My body felt so heavy, and the man, Emerson, continued to speak.

"I know you remember everything that happened today," He began, and I filled with rage. How _dare_ this man I had never even met act as though he knew me all too well? I tried to land a punch at him, but I was too slow with all the weight upon me. "Don't even try; your body is still affected by the hyoscine-pentothal." Emerson paused, and silence entered the room again. What was this room? I couldn't even tell that much, I just knew I was hooked up to an IV that only a hospital could have. "The government is spitting on Michelle's grave, Tony."

I look up at him and my lip curls, a snarl that is supposedly one of my famous features. Again I wonder, how can I remember such little things if I was supposedly dead? "You can't say that, you don't know anything about me or my wife." I manage to get out, but it takes a lot of energy and I'm extremely thirsty.

"Charles Logan, the president, is behind all of the events occurring today." As the man says this, I try to hide my shock. That much I did not know. "He's responsible for your wife's death, and he'll get by with a slap on the wrist because he's so valuable." Another pause; I know he's right. "The honor in this country has gone; it passed by long ago. There's nothing left that's worth fighting for, except for the one remaining thing –" He leaned in. "You can avenge Michelle's death, get back at the people who kill your most prized possession."

I hated the way he put it, as if my perfect, kind wife was just a prize to look at it and put away whenever I pleased. Still, his words seemed true. I turned away, or at least attempted to, but my body was still so weak. He sighed softly, as if with a certain empathy for me, and began to walk away. Emerson stopped in the doorway and said one last thing. "Think about what I said, I know you'll come to agree."

And I did. The more I was left to think, the more pain I felt. Never again would I look into those big brown orbs that could get anything they wanted, just because she had that power over me. Never again would I touch her or kiss her, sending me into a heaven I didn't know existed. I thought back to the night before I lost her; the night before I lost everything.

_"Do you remember that day?" She said with a laugh, and I kept gazing at her. I'd never seen something so beautiful, even if she had no make up on and her hair look like that of a wet dog's. Something as little as shampooing her hair or watching her sleep sent me into extreme joy, and I wondered how I managed to make someone as ideal as her want me. I loved everything about her, and that wet hair smelled so amazing. Or maybe it was just her skin, I honestly could never figure it out. Smiling at her, I melted at those puppy dog eyes. "Remember what day, sweetheart?"_

_Before letting her speak, I couldn't help but give her a soft peck on the lips. Such a little gesture, yet it made me weak at the knees like a little school boy. Feeling affectionate, I began to massage the feet the rested on my lap and she leaned back, getting comfortable. "Mmm," Michelle began before speaking again, closing her eyes. "The day we went to the carnival, and we rode that one ride and got stuck at the top"_

_Of course I remembered. She had wanted a day off so badly, and I took her to the fair to ride all sorts of rollercoaster's. And to get her a snow cone, because I knew how much she loved those. It seemed as though the entire day would've gone downhill once we rode and found ourselves stuck, but quite the opposite occurred. I couldn't fathom why she wanted to go on such an ugly thing, with the paint having faded and chipped in multiple places and the squeaking that every movement made. She just seemed so drawn to such a hideous attraction, and I couldn't resist any of her wishes. The ride started out boring and picked up speed, but just as we hit one of the big drops it stopped. No warnings or anything, our cart and all the others just came to a dead halt. The people below announced that it would be running within the hour, but we both knew that time would be tripled or more. Still, the day seemed to only get better from there. We sat and talked for hours, something we hadn't done in a while. All possible subjects came up, such as the old days at CTU, or what Jack, Bill, and Chloe might be up to now. Then, a subject I didn't think would come up, did just that. My wife looked up at me with a sheepish smile, as if embarrassed to ask her question. "We should think about, I don't know, having a baby." Her words rolled off her tongue, and I was mesmerized by the beautiful tone of her voice. I almost missed what she said, but at the last second I made out what she suggested. _

_The feeling I had then had only happened two others times. Our first wedding and our second wedding. Not only did I feel nothing but a strong, passionate love that would never go away – but I felt doubtless. I didn't even need to think twice about the decision, for I knew it was the right one. My thoughts went back to those two times that we stood at the alter, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I still wondered how most grooms could get every word perfectly, whereas I was stammering because she made me so weak. I wrapped her in a hug, tears in my eyes, and said that it'd be great to try and make a family. I pulled away quickly and looked at her, my breath shallow as I was stunned by her tremendous beauty yet again. Both of us leaning in, we kissed for the longest time. Our tongues invaded each other's mouths, but it remained soft and gentle rather than urgent and rushed. I had all the time I needed with her, unless I screwed everything up again. That, however, was as likely as the two of us going back to CTU. I would never let Michelle go, no matter what happened. She was my everything, and nothing could take that away._

_Only those were memories now, but part of those events still remained. I sat on the couch, still so in love with her as I had been those few months ago. My eyes couldn't avert from hers, and her words barely hit their mark as she said them now. "Tony, I'm pregnant." I smiled at her, cocking my head to the side. "What?" She gulped, saying it again. "We're going to have a…a baby." I realized what Michelle was saying, and my jaw dropped. No doubt, no disappointment, no bad feelings reached me. I pulled her into the same hug that I had that day at the carnival, holding her tight and never letting go. It wasn't just the two of us anymore, a third person stood between us – in her stomach, growing and preparing itself to be born. I pulled her into a tight embrace, kissing her as if it were our last. She let out a squeal of surprise, as if she hadn't been expecting it, and I found that I couldn't control myself. Slowly but surely, I moved my lips away from her mouth and onto her neck, then down to her collarbone, leaving a light trail of saliva with every move. She began taking off my shirt, and I purred with satisfaction. This need that I felt, I _had_ to be closer to her. As close as I could. I unbuttoned the front of her shirt, finding it unbelievably sexy that she was wearing something so easy to take off. As if this moment were expected, but that thought in itself was enough to get me exhilarated. No, I had to make this something unforgettable, as I always strived to do. She began taking off my pants, and I did the same to her. My boxers were suddenly at my ankles, and I looked down in shock at how she'd managed to do such a thing so quickly. "Oh, you naughty girl." I chuckled and moved lower, pulling down her lace panties and looking up to see her breathless, those puppy-dog eyes wide with unknowing. "Don't move." I instructed._

_My kisses move further down; to her naval, and finally down to her lower stomach. She looks at me with a shy look and I smile teasingly. Rather than doing the expected, I take three fingers and slowly move them up, causing her to gasp in contentment. Those fingers of mine brush against her wall, stroking every little part to match her groans. My little games only go on a little farther before the act is done, and I'm overcome with that familiar feeling of excitement. However, as it always was and always would be, nothing mattered except for her happiness – what Michelle wanted. So as the moans and fast breaths escaped her lips, that was when I couldn't take it anymore and I pressed myself closer to her. She exhaled loudly as I pulled myself into her body, moving slow and passionately. One hand cupped her breast and the other her face, softly pushing a curl out of the way. She opened her mouth to speak, but I wouldn't let her. I kissed her urgently, as if I could never get enough of her, and after a little while I pulled away. She gasped for air and I felt it, coming closer and closer – until finally we'd both reached the highest peak, and I rolled over to embrace her in the more romantic way. The gorgeous thing let out a final breath of air and I wiped away a few beads of sweat, whispering in her ear as if someone else were listening in as well._

"_Michelle Dessler Almeida," I began with nothing but a whisper. "You are mine to hold. I love you more than you could ever know, and _nothing_ will take that away from me." She shakes her head instantly, speaking at the same level as I did. "Nothing." And she kisses me again, sending me into another world of eternal bliss. I didn't need anything else, I only needed her – but still, she found ways to make every day better than the last. _

By now the tears were in my eyes, and I didn't even care of the humiliation of a guy like me crying. Especially since I remembered; my baby had always loved to see me cry. The vulnerability of such a thing, she couldn't help it and she'd wrap me in a tight hug for comfort. I waited for her to do just that, but where was she now? Murdered, gone, out of my life forever because of what _they _did. They'd get away with it, too. I'd seen and done the unthinkable, but my 'Chelle was so much more than anything in this world.

And the government took her away, President Logan and all of his accomplices. No, no one else would suffer the pain I had. I began considering all the awful things I would have to do in order to reach the people responsible, but I couldn't find myself caring. What would she think of me? I knew my wife, and she would never approve. I closed my eyes and shuddered, shaking my head. "I have to do this, Michelle." Looking up, I spoke to her as if she were there with me. "I can't let them get away with this, just know that I love you more than anything. Forgive me for all the things I do…I just can't forget." A final breath escaped me and I leaned back onto my pillow, trying to brace myself for what I was getting into. Her death had to be avenged, no matter the cost.  
So as David Emerson walked in with an expressionless face, the question didn't even have to be asked. "I'll join you."


	2. The Kill

**Authors Note; **I don't think this one is as long as the other, and for that I apologize :|  
I didn't have an extreme amount of muse, so the emotion and character is not as good either. I rather like the ideas, though.  
WARNING: If you're a Chase Edmunds fan, this is NOT the chapter for you.

All anyone could think about was whether or not a bastard like me could follow through with this, as if I had secretly decided to turn on them and work for the very people that betrayed me. Whenever my new teammates took a glance, all they could see within my dark eyes was a mole in their plan. As if I even had a _reason_, I was the perfect candidate for an operation like this and they _knew_ it. What could I possibly have to lose? My name? Everyone except for these people thought I had died. My wife, perhaps? No, the world made it perfectly clear that they didn't want me to be happy, so they took her away. Did I even have a mere child as leverage against my soul? They'd taken that away from me as well. I was at the bottom for the first time, not even worthy of a position in the middle. I had to follow every order, no matter who gave it, and that required high patience – something I never developed.  
Michelle knew that better than anyone. As I looked around at all the faces, the one skill I'd developed so well became handy: hiding my emotions, no matter how small. If they could read my face and my thoughts, they'd see loud and clear all the pain I felt. Everyone, even idiots walking the streets, would be able to see how hard it was for me to get up in the morning. They would spot the fact that every night I'd lay in bed, hoping I wouldn't wake up in the morning. They'd glimpse at the hopes I had that this was all an awful dream, and that if I thought about it hard enough, I would wake up in our bed with my arms wrapped around her so lovingly.  
Then I would return to reality, realizing the acts I'd soon commit. The acts that I had spent my entire career trying to stop; only that was _before_ – before those same people I worked for took everything away. The government had decided that, even after everything I'd played a large role in, I didn't deserve a happy life. A few of the guys in the group asked if I blamed Jack, and that answer would always be no. My best friend, a traitor to me? Never, Bauer was just an idiot. He knew what loss I felt, but still he let _them_ walk all over him, calling for assistance whenever it was required. After Jack helped, he'd be thrown away for the next time he was needed. I wouldn't do that, never again.  
Some of these scumbags would talk about me, wondering how far I'd really be willing to go. I had an answer for them, every time: I would go as far as it took to avenge her death.

"_So, what do you want for dinner?" Michelle had said with that famous cheeky smile – at least it seemed famous to me. Everything about her could easily be remembered, as each was a trademark of hers._

"Almeida, you ready?" Emerson interrupted my thoughts, and just in time. Even he had come to notice that, when left alone for just a moment, I would start remembering Michelle and fall out of reality.  
"Yeah, what are we doing?" I looked around, trying to figure out where the hell we were now.  
"There's a group who seems to be planning a bomb attack. We don't know any further details, all we know is that we're supposed to come to this warehouse and steal some uranium to supply them, that's it."  
"Wait," I began, confusion overpowering my other emotions. "We don't know anything else? How do you expect to get out of this alive? They'll probably kill us once we deliver what they want."  
He laughed under his breath, and that made me angry until I realized once more – I was at the bottom…I couldn't stand up for myself, no matter how hard it was to resist. Emerson pulled a gun out from the stash and cocked it, putting it in his hand securely. "That's why, once we deliver it, we're going to kill the people picking it up. They'll be expecting it, and we've got to get them before they get us. Put on your mask incase of leaks."  
"How much does it pay?" I asked, pretending to be interested while grabbing my mask. Money would never matter, even when the millions began piling up one by one. Michelle Almeida: that's what mattered here.  
"Four mil, each." He replied, a gleeful smile on his face. I returned the favor with a fake smile of my own, but Emerson didn't know me well enough to tell the difference. He would _never_ know me well enough, the only person who ever would…well, she was gone.

"_I asked what you wanted for dinner!" Michelle laughed-yelled, hitting me on the leg and forcing me to snap out of my daydreams.  
"I'm sorry; I was just so mesmerized by your beauty." I said with the smile she loved so much plastered on my face. As I did so, she tried to copy me and failed. Miserably, I might add.  
"Oh, don't even answer, Almeida, I know you too well." She jumped up and walked over to pick up the phone, a wide grin on her face as she dialed.  
"So you're saying I'm an open book? Watch out, Dessler." I paused, smirking mysteriously now. "By the end of tonight, I will do something so unpredictable you'll be shaking in those pretty little shoes of yours."  
Michelle instantly looked down at her fuzzy slippers and rolled her eyes. "Of course you would take a cheap shot at my slippers, which you _know_ you love." I opened my mouth to say something and she interrupted me. "Wait, you called me Dessler."  
"Almeida, I mean?" I asked, almost unsure at whether or not I was right. She raised her eyebrows and smiled, turning away to order the food.  
That's when I realized: that moment, frozen in time, was completely and utterly idiotic. This woman, Michelle Almeida, was the most perfect human being in the world – and I was letting her order Chinese because we didn't feel like cooking? Not a chance.  
Acting unpredictable early, I walked up behind her and took the phone away just as the person on the other end picked up. "What are you doing?" She asked with a confused look. Only it was so much _more_ than just a confused look, for her big brown eyes made a mixture of emotions and thoughts that I just melted at.  
"We're not ordering dinner, I'm making it. I want you to go take a nice, hot bath and just try to relax. We had a tough day today, didn't we?"  
She attempted to protest, but I wouldn't let her. I couldn't even begin to understand how husbands could consider an act like this a burden, when all I wanted to do was spoil her – but Michelle would never allow that; she could fend for herself. I put my finger on her lips and replaced it with my own, giving her a wet, gentle peck before pulling away, sending her off in a daze to her relaxing bubble bath.  
Now, what was I to cook?_

"Almeida, if you can't do this job then stay behind." Emerson said, and I snapped out of my memories. Most would use the word daydreams, but they weren't _dreams_ of mine – the only dream I had left was being fulfilled as I spoke.  
"No, I can do it, just keep me busy." I tried to keep my thoughts away from Michelle for just long enough to finish this up.  
We all lifted our guns and waited for Emerson's signal, something I was extremely unaccustomed to. As he nodded, everyone followed his lead and broke into the warehouse; only we weren't the only ones there. Immediately, as it was our instinct, bullets began to fire all around the room in order to hit their target. I moved and took cover beneath a block without any canisters on it, which seemed to be smart as uranium would be leaked otherwise. That was something we couldn't afford. I heard a few bullets hit where I took cover, and once they stopped I lifted to take aim. Obviously my experience was helpful, as two bullets brought the duo shooting at me down.  
Finally it seemed they were to surrender, but when I looked up it seemed to be five, maybe six men in our custody. Had I underestimated Emerson? My thoughts didn't have time to linger on that thought, for I soon found myself recognizing one of their people –

Chase Edmunds.

I knew he had transferred to CTU in another city, but I had no idea he still worked in the field – undercover, as it seemed. I managed to mask my shock, but the same could not be said for Chase. His eyes widened in confusion for a split second, and Emerson saw it even in the short time. "You know him?"  
Edmunds looked at his teammates as Emerson asked me, and I looked away from Chase. "Yeah, I know him."  
"Well who the hell are these people?"  
"I don't know, but that's Agent Chase Edmunds. He works for CTU, but obviously he's been working undercover."  
The enemy began looking at Chase with a mix of astonishment and betrayal, as if they'd never expected that. "Well, that's going to be a problem."  
Emerson's other men raised their guns and shot Chase's fellow teammates, but the last one alive seemed to still be confused.  
"Tony, what are you doing?"  
I knew what they were going to have me do, and it wasn't going to be the best way to start off my turning against this country. Ignoring Chase, I turned to Emerson and waited for the order – what I expected never came.  
"We're going to load the canisters onto the truck. You keep an eye on this clown; I want to see you kill him when I get back." They all walked away and I ignored Chase's dirty looks and questions, drifting off into fantasy yet again.

_What better than her favorite? Homemade pineapple pizza with a side of curly fries, and there was a _very_ specific way of making both of the objects. The pizza had to be sweet, not spicy, but it still had to have a touch of red pepper on it. Though that wasn't the hard part, for she desired the curly fries to be curlier than her hair…a seemingly impossible task.  
I pasted the tomato sauce all over the homemade crust, followed by every other ingredient I knew she loved. Glances kept sweeping over to the bathroom, hoping she wouldn't come out to see my special surprise. As I finally finished the pizza and began preparing her delicious fries, I snuck a glance at something different this time – the pocket of my jacket, resting on the chair with a velvet box nestled inside of it. I looked at the bathroom and sighed, shaking my head. How could I propose tonight, when we were both so tired? No, it had to be perfect.  
But that wish had already been ruined, for I'd made her weight way too long. At first she wouldn't have been expecting it, and everything could've gone smoothly – but then the days past, and then weeks, and now months. A sudden timer began beeping, and I snapped out of my sadness to move the curly fries around in the pan. Could she hear the sizzle? I wondered._

"Tony, it's time." I "woke up" as Emerson and the rest of the crew surrounded, placing a gun in my hand and beginning to cheer. I felt slightly weak, in the midst of all my teammates who could easily kill me with the shotguns in their hands.  
Chase looked at me with no emotion, though I couldn't see any fear in his eyes…that's when I realized that he expected me to get him out of this. "You're not leaving her alive, Chase." He spat at my feet, though still no fear…he still didn't believe me. I cocked my handgun and raised it, pointing it directly at his head. Finally, some confusion appeared – yet _still_ no fear.  
"I don't believe you, Almeida; you would never kill a fellow agent." He whispered, and I knew my teammates couldn't hear him. That's when I leaned it, finally telling someone and admitting what it had all come down to.  
"You're right, I wouldn't. The people behind me are considered agents now; everyone else became dead to me when Michelle died."  
I pulled the trigger, and with a deafening bang his body went limp.  
"Nice job, Tony." I heard Emerson say, but the sound of a bullet being shot still rang in my ears.


End file.
